Defloration
by Rynnette Lively
Summary: ON HOLD, because no one appreciates creativity - - Marluxia decides to play with Namine psychologically. :D


A/N: Hello readers, I felt and urge to write something evil, so I did. I cannot fathom what this will make people think, but oh well.

DISCLAIMER: Oh boy, disclaimer time!!! No characters belong to me, blah blah blah.

Defloration

Act 1

_Truth hurts little girl, but we are nothing…you and I… _

His icy words cut into her, making her run faster through the endless darkness. Her sight was useless to her but she desperately tried to search her way through the halls for an escape. Fear permeated her senses and she could feel his cool eyes watching her as an owl watches a frantic mouse, waiting for the moment to strike. Suddenly his hands, feather light, touched her arms, stopping her mad dash. She was pulled against his firm chest, her eyes widening with heightening anxiety. Softly, his lips touched the curve of her ear. His cool breath ran over her skin, making her shiver.

_Soon Naminé…you'll come to me…_

She felt the confident grin as his lips ran down her neck. A defiant retort was ready to burst from her when his teeth bit down on her shoulder, making her yelp and swallow her defiance.

Naminé woke with a start, gasping for breath. Looking around wildly, she felt her breathing steady when she realized she was alone. She looked at the table where she'd fallen asleep, her eyes roaming over the scattered drawings. The dream steadily resurfaced in her mind less tangible but still very vivid and frightening. Naminé didn't need to guess to know who had sent it. Seeing one of her drawings of the lord of Castle Oblivion, she flipped it over to avoid seeing his fathomless dark blue eyes and cocky smirk. Pushing the chair away from the table to leave, Naminé winced from a slight pain in her shoulder. Looking warily toward the source slowly, she was alarmed to make out the slight indentations of a bite.

o O o

The Organization members had left Naminé to her own devices. To her, that was a blessing. Larxene, one of her least favorite members, delighted in tormenting her, but most of the time all the members ignored her. Save for one, the lord of Castle Oblivion. Marluxia was nearly always in her presence. He didn't taunt her like Larxene, but he was very possessive of her in a way that made Naminé nervous. He was unfalteringly gentle with her as if she were a glass doll. Because of this Naminé felt a slight attraction to him and a sort of obedience since he didn't let harm come to her.

Naminé was walking down one of the corridors in the castle, her thoughts her only company when the hairs on the back of her neck rose suddenly. She could feel eyes watching her, the fear started to slowly streak through her blood. Before she could walk any further, she felt his presence directly behind her.

"Hello Naminé." The cool male voice started. Naminé's blood ran cold when she smelled the scent of flowers in spring, telling her who it was behind her. She thought it odd that something so dangerous smelt so wonderful, almost tempting. Her first impulse was to run but her legs had become lead, rooting her to the spot. His large hands cupped her shoulders gently, almost fatherly and for an instant she felt safe. Then when reality struck her again, she shook.

"You're trembling." He remarked, pausing. After a moment he lowered his head, his mouth near her ear, "Are you afraid of me Naminé?"

His voice was playful, curious. Naminé tried to keep her voice steady.

"Y-yes…"

A grin spread over his lips. His arms moved around her, pulling her against him. Naminé's body went rigid.

"That's good." He replied silkily. Her breath hitched in her throat as his fingers traced over the bite.

"Oh my, what happened here?" The innocence in his voice was a ruse and she knew it.

"Please…stop Marluxia." Naminé pleaded softly. His lips touched the bite, kissing gently.

"Don't beg me, my little flower. It makes me want to hear you beg more." Marluxia chuckled softly. Tears welled up slowly in her eyes.

"Why are you doing this?" She cried. His arms tightened around her.

"Because no one will ever touch you like I will." His voice had become hard and serious, laced with venom at the thought of anyone else touching her. Although he wasn't capable of love, he was capable of possessiveness and even obsession. Naminé was unwaveringly pure, a flower among a garden of poisonous weeds. Marluxia was obsessed with her innocence and sought to preserve it for himself at any cost. He'd threatened other members of the Organization on pain of death if any dared to touch her. His arms tightened around her in near desperation.

"Marluxia…?" Her soft voice asked meekly. She was looking up at him, the tears still moist in her eyes. His eyes softened as he gazed into the soft blue depths.

_So young, so beautiful… _

If she weren't a Nobody, she might have grown into a exquisite woman. The thought of her with a woman's body sent an ache of desire through his loins, nearly making him shiver. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. His hands left her, freeing her. Naminé didn't move at first, the sudden loss of warmth stunning her. When she realized she'd been freed, she spun around to defend herself. His eyes bore down on her, a mix of anger at himself and confusion at his need for her. Naminé could see the mixed emotions in his eyes and wanted to pity him but the conceited spark flared to life again in them. Marluxia raised a hand and cupped her cheek, gently stroking. Despite her fear of him, for a moment Naminé wanted to turn her face against his hand, to feel the warmth it pressed into her. His hand dropped and he turned from her, the steady click of his boots sounding on the marble floor.

"Go back to your room and your drawings Naminé. I don't like having to chase after you when you disappear." He warned her curtly, his tone chiding. Naminé turned away from him, running in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could carry her.

A/N: I might continue this if it pleases me, or if I get enough reviews. So meh.


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